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The Huntress
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Add: 15 June 2016 / 08:00
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Katerina drew back the bow and held her position, inhaling through her nose silently lest she give her position away. The hart walked slowly along, and then Katerina exhaled slowly and let the arrow fly. It flew true, and the hart bounded away despite the mortal wound. She scrambled down from her perch in the dark, gnarled tree and patiently followed the trail. Her prey would not make it far, that she knew from experience.
She walked for only a short distance before she found the animal. As her father had trained her to do, she showed mercy on the beast. It would feed her and her family, and she placed her hand on the animal’s head and whispered her soft prayer to it. She apologized for taking its life, but assured it that he would provide her and her family food and warmth, and that the hart had died a good death.
She looked up and around after saying her prayer. The adrenaline of the kill had already worn off, and now she faced a long, arduous slough through the woods. She looked up, and glanced to the west. The imposing castle built into the side of the mountain saw all, including her. A shiver of fear coursed through her, as it was said that the King and Queen who resided there saw all, knew all and judged all. Part of her prayer was to assuage that far-off King and Queen. The tales the villagers told about lofty castle were fodder for nightmares.
She tied up the hart, and slung the thick, coarse ropes over her shoulder and heaved. Katerina had to lug the deadweight over roots and through thick underbrush. She was sweating profusely after only a few minutes of the labor, and by the time she found the well-worn trail leading to her small village, she had to stop and rest.
She panted, bent over at the waist, the blood rushing in her ears deafening her. When she heard the thunder of the hooves, it was already too late. She could never flee in time to escape whomever was approaching. She drew her knife, and knelt down near the trail, holding it carefully against her thigh. When she saw the four riders approach, her heart froze in her chest.
“WHOA!” the lead rider said, spying her and her kill. While it was not expressly forbidden to hunt in the Great Wood of the Castle, neither was it exactly allowed. The lead rider’s horse snorted, a loud sound, as the other riders drew up. Hands fell upon the hasps of greatswords, and the lead rider sat up imperiously, gazing down upon her.
“Stand, child, when royalty is before you,” he announced. He sat stiffly, now his hand crossing his body and grasping the hilt of his sword. She might have had a chance against one, but against four she had none. So, fearing the worst, she stood, wisely allowing the knife to fall from her grasp.
“Your highness,” she said softly, bowing her head.
“A fresh kill, lass?” he asked, sounded interesting. “How did you take it?”
“Bow, m’Lord,” she replied, still bowed.
“And dragged it this far? You have some strength,” he said in a tone that bordered on admiration. “Still, it is one of the King’s harts you’ve taken,” he added.
“I’m sorry m’Lord, my bearings must have gotten crossed in the Woods.” This was a lie; Katerina knew the Castle Wood as well as any human alive. She knew the West and East woods, too, and was growing familiar with the River Wood, the one that the rushing, giant river had ripped into two great halves.
Her village stood in a small clearing amidst these great dark forests. Theirs was the closest village to the Castle, but visitors were exceedingly rare. Perhaps too far, Katerina thought, else I would have taken far more care.
“A hunter such as yourself? One shot? Lost her bearings?” He snorted derisively. “I think lying to your Lord and Liege would not be done so cavalierly as that.”
Horrified, she bowed further. “Yes, m’Lord, sorry m’Lord. I took it with one shot, m’Lord,” hoping her confession might alleviate her from harm.
He alighted from the horse, his armor clanking loudly as he did so. His men at arms dismounted as well, flanking him. One bent close and picked up her knife, handing to the leader. “Sir, her blade,” he said.
He took it and hefted it, balancing it. “Finely balanced,” he decreed, and peered at the edge. “And finely honed. Your work, or are you borrowing someone else’s blade?” he sneered.
She had found the iron, forged it, and honed it all her own. Her father was a smith, and had taught her how. “It’s mine, made from scratch, m’Lord,” she said unable to keep the pride out of her tone.
“And your mother did not scare you off, put in you in a summer dress with a flower in your hair, looking to land the right sort of man?” the Lord replied archly.
“I have no mother, m’Lord, she died when I was very young. It’s only my father and me,” she explained.
“How old are you child?”
“Sixteen, m’Lord.” It was the wrong answer, she noted instantly. The light in all four sets of eyes went on, and she was dimly aware that her chest, which had been so flat for all the years of her youth, had budded recently, and pressed tightly against all the tops she wore. Even now, she knew, that gaps between the buttons appeared due to the the growth of her chest.
The Lord pondered the situation. “Lukas, you and Damien put her on your horse. Jakob, bring the hart. At least we shall bring the King and Queen a gift, or perhaps two,” the Lord said idly, gazing openly at Katerina. “Move!” he barked.
Her screams of fury, defiance and fear went unheard by anyone in the village. Without a trace, she had vanished, carried off to the high castle, in the tow of some Lord and his henchmen. She very nearly cowered in fear, except that her father had taught her never to cower. Be afraid, he had said, and make friends with it. You will never find a more true friend than fear, when and if the time comes that you need to call upon that friendship.
They emerged from the Castle Wood, the horses thundering along the muddy, sloppy road. The scattering of hamlets looked in good repair, and a few braver souls stood by watching the procession as it passed from their gardens or fields. As they neared the castle, the usual assortment of buildings popped up, the low-born attending to the lower needs of their betters.
The entire place smelled of shit, Katerina thought, despite her fear studying the hamlets and their people. They were bent, tired, worked near to death, and yet stout in a way she could not define. Perhaps, she thought, that living in shit makes one impervious to it.
The Lord impudently banged on the porticullis, demanding entrance. “It is I, Lord Wighly,” he bellowed to the guardsmen. They rapidly opened the walls, and the Lord and his men resumed their thunderous gallop inside the castle. Once there, they alighted again, tossing their bridles to unseen attendants. The two henchmen gripped Katerina harshly by her upper arms. She stifled a cry. These men would not get the satisfaction.
They marched her into the Hall. It was magnificent, she realized, despite herself. The high arch of the main Hall, how had they built it? The number of men, the intelligence needed to make sure the whole place did not crumble upon itself, simply amazed her. There was gold, in piles, along one side, angry looking men bent over, tasked with counting it. The courtiers looked upon the procession with curiosity. Anything new was worth a look.
Katerina heard a low whistle from her right, sounding impressed. She shivered. She was marched to the front of the Hall, where a pale woman sat stoically, impassive. Her eyes were light blue, and focused on Katerina. There was passion there, Katerina thought, but she knew not why. The King belched grossly. “Lord Wighly, what have you there?” he asked coarsely.
“A huntress, in the Castle Wood, my Liege,” this Lord Wighly replied formally. “We have brought her, and her kill, in the hopes that we may dine together this evening,” he said smoothly.
Katerina’s head turned but a fraction. Such unctuousness coming from a man sounded so unseemly, and yet the King acted flattered by it. Katerina saw the Queen still observing her, and she dropped her eyes quickly. The Queen spoke next. “Surely you are not suggesting that we dine with... her ?”
“No, my Queen, only that this little huntress has brought for you a meal suitable to your position,” the Lord said quickly.
“Bah,” the King snorted. “The Queen likes not the taste of the hart. Give it to the kitchen; they will know what to do with it.”
“And the huntress, my Lord?” the Lord Wighly asked. Katerina heard the quiver in his tone. His gifts were going unrecognized; he was distressed.
“Take her to Under,” the King replied indifferently. “He will know what to do with the child.”
Two guardsmen came forward, and took Katerina away. She looked back, only to see the Queen still tracking her every movement.
She was led, down halls and steps, through twisting dank corridors that smelled of rot, that the blazing torches barely kept lit. They went down, down, down, and Katerina was now hopelessly lost. The two men came to a sturdy oaken door and rapped impatiently. “A new arrival for Under,” the one guard barked.
The screeching of metal scraping on metal accompanied the slow opening of the door. A hunchbacked being, in a thick, brown shapeless cloak, stood by as the two guardsmen walked Katerina into the center of the room. There, they reached up and brought down chains from the ceiling. The clasping of her wrists with the icy metal finally made Katerina whimper, once, now understanding the real taste of fear.
With that, the two guardsmen left, the screech of the door closing, ending with a resounding and final thudding sound. “Ah, a new specimen,” the hunchback said in a greedy tone, walking in circles around Katerina. He muttered unintelligible things under his breath and then left. Katerina was left alone in the cold, dark, damp room, her arms connected to the ceiling over her head, without any slack to rest. There, she remained, for a period of time for which she could not tell.
Mercifully, another door opened and two persons came out. The shuffle of the hunchback led the way, followed by a tall person, wearing a deep hood over his head, shielding his face from Katerina. “What have we here?” he asked in deep, rumbling tone.
“A huntress took a hart in the Castle Wood,” the hunchback said, sounding eager.
Katerina looked around wildly. She had never needed to pee so badly in her life, and tried to keep the flow stemmed. But she would not last, not long, not under the frightening gaze of these two captors.
“And the King ordered to me?” Under asked, moving to a position in front of Katerina. Otherwise he remained otherworldly still.
“Yes, m’liege,” the hunchback growled. “She took it with one arrow.”
The Under moved forward. Katerina detected his foul breath and even fouler body odor permeating her nose. She wanted to wrinkle it up, to escape him and oppressive smells, but knew better than to flinch in any way. “Tell me, huntress, did the Queen look upon you?”
Katerina licked lips, as they were dry and cracked from the fear. “Yes.”
He made a funny squeaking noise. “Interest from the Queen can be a blessing, or a curse,” the Under intoned. “Luckily for me, I get to find out which you may be!” he cackled in a way that chilled Katerina to the bone.
“Fetch me my scissors,” the Under commanded, and the hunchback shuffled away, and returned with the cold, metallic object. The Under walked behind Katerina, and she jerked when he pressed the length of the long, cold metal against her back.
“‘Tis not wise to move, huntress,” the Under warned as she heard the shears snipping at her best hunting leathers. “You might get a cut. The Queen prefers undamaged goods.” The cutting resumed. The Under then cut the length of her right arm, and the top fell, partially uncovering her body. The chill striking her bare flesh made her skin prickle and gooseflesh erupted all over her body, especially around the peaking nipple. The hunchback might have made a noise, but the Under paid him no mind. He cut the left sleeve, and then only once her top was turned to rags at the floor by her feet he did step back in front of her.
“Ah, I can see why the Queen favored you,” this Under said after a lengthy stare. “‘Tis a surprise the King did not as well.”
Katerina shifted her hips uncomfortably. The need to urinate was so strong that it nearly made her eyes water. “Please, I need…” she moaned.
“What, to piss?” the Under laughed. “Piss in your drawers, huntress, they won’t be on your legs for long.”
Katerina could never once stand being laughed at. When she was only thirteen, and just learning the way of the woods, a boy had assaulted her, tearing at her top to reveal her childlike chest, and then laughed at her. Rather than cowering in fear, which had obviously been expected, she had attacked, and had driven that boy off. She returned home, the bloody cuts from where he had hit her blossoming into ugly purple-yellow bruises, but she was intact.
Her father had supported her and nursed her back to health. He asked nothing of the event. The boy had gone off to the castle some time ago; Katerina noted his departure with relief.
Transferring her fury and hatred to this Under had caused her to forget to clench her lower abdomen muscles. The warm spray of piss spread from her crotch, and she reacted, trying to twist and clamp her legs together.
“Ah,” the Under laughed again. “Pissing in your own drawer," he rumbled. He then handed the scissors to the hunchback. “Cut her pants off and be careful not to get her piss on the metal.” He watched as the hunchback performed his duties, and then as she was fully naked and vulnerable, a wash of hatred coursed through her stronger than any she had felt in her entire life. But never let an enemy know your thoughts, she recalled her father counseling her.
“An enemy who is unaware of your passion towards him or her will underestimate you. You are but a slip of a girl,” he said. “Make sure that when you finally show your anger, they know who you are.”
She withdrew, her face hardening into a mask of impassivity, as the Under and his hunchback encircled her several more times.
“Yes, I think that the Queen will find this huntress most pleasing,” the Under finally decided. He left, and despite her indifference towards things, Katerina still looked around carefully. A parade of four women marched in, their steps echoing in the stone room in perfect unison.
“And I was right, as this,” the Under said nodding his head towards the four women, “are the Queen’s Imperial Guard.” He moved close, again befouling her with his horrid stinky mouth. “They are utterly devoted to the Queen. A false move will find you tossed out onto the ground in the manure, the hilt of the dagger bruising your flesh, your kidney pierced, as you bleed out and become just another piece of shit.” He backed off, slightly. “So mind them, huntress, or be damned.”
The chains from the ceiling were lowered, and her arms were taken by two of the guardswomen. Roughly her hands were pulled behind her back, where wristlets were affixed. She was then led out of the room, and went through another series of twisting, dark, narrow and dank passages until she was led into an airy space, set high up in the Castle. Katerina twisted her head, interested to see that the entrance to this room was through a false wall.
“Oh, what have we here?” a woman purred smoothly. She was older, with thick, flabby arms poking out through a soft, gauzy material. The matron was not quite enormously fat, but she was definitely the fattest female Katerina had ever looked upon. “Stand still, dear, or those Amazons will have your head on a pole,” the matron warned. “You, stand back, there,” she said impertinently to the guards. They took a single step backwards, but remained on guard. Their hands were gripping their blades, surely they were light and murderously sharp, Katerina knew.
The Matron circled the naked Katerina several times. “Quite a lovely shape,” she finally decreed. The matron softly, almost lovingly, ran thick fingers deftly up and down Katerina’s arms, until more gooseflesh erupted.
“And sensitive, too,” the Matron laughed. “Guards, position her, if you will.”
Katerina was grabbed again, and hauled to a large wooden cross. Two guards lifted Katerina’s feet and put it on one of the steps. Katerina began to fight; the leader whipped out the blade and held it just scant inches from Katerina’s soft chin. “Do not resist,” this woman whispered in a gravelly tone.
Katerina obeyed, and allowed the guards to strap her to the cross. Once the guards stepped back, the Matron studied her new charge carefully. “It is written,” the Matron said almost sadly, “that the Queen takes only the virtuous.” The Matron held up a wooden stake, rounded at one end. Having seen enough horses in her day to know that the wooden implement was very reminiscent of the horses’s thing, Katerina began to howl in protest. The Matron handed the stake the guards’ leader. “It is your right,” the Matron said.
The four guards turned to a quick conference. Then, a woman of pale flaxen hair took off her helmet, and took the wooden tool into her hand. She walked up to Katerina, who was wide-eyed with horror, or terror, or both. The woman stood up close to Katerina, and whispered into her ear.
“You had best bleed on this, huntress, or when I return the only bleeding in this room will come when I shove my blade through your heart.” With that, the guardswoman roughly positioned the wooden tool at Katerina’s opening between her legs. She shoved, and Katerina howled with screaming pain. When the wood was removed, it came away bloody.
“Go, now,” the Matron ordered sternly. The guard left, holding the wooden tool carefully. Katerina found herself unable to stop sobbing. The pain had lessened some, but not the humiliation or the feeling of impossible violation.
The Matron stood still, her head tilted to one side, her hand caressing her double-chins, pondering. The guards remained there, standing impassive watch. Katerina felt the warm trickle of blood coursing down her thigh. She vowed revenge on all of them.
The guard returned. “The Queen finds her acceptable,” the guard announced. With that, the remaining three guards left, and Katerina was once again alone with the Matron.
“Now I’m sure that hurt,” the Matron said soothingly. “But you have to be alive to feel pain, child. The Queen has discarded twelve like you,” she related sadly. “Take solace in that.”
Katerina thought I feel nothing but wisely (she thought) nodded along. The Matron hummed softly, mixing up something on a table near where she had been sitting when Katerina was brought into the room. The Matron brought a wet cloth over and began carefully wiping down Katerina’s lower body. “There, there,” she said soothingly, for each stroke of the cloth brought with it a shiver from Katerina. The pain abated swiftly then.
“Now then, my child, I must go eat. When I return, we will perform the Queen’s tests.”
Katerina remained affixed to the cross long enough for day to become late evening. The Matron returned, and first busied herself with lighting many candles. As she moved, she both burped and farted loudly. “Ah, so much the better,” the Matron said softly. She then finally returned to attention to Katerina.
“Now then, child, I need to know what the Queen has in you,” she said. The Matron boldly walked up to the naked Katerina, and put the entire palm of her hand atop Katerina’s youthful sex. She began rubbing slowly, in tight, gentle circles. Katerina’s eyes opened widely in fury, but she remained silent. The Matron did nothing else but to continue the steady, gentle application of flesh upon flesh. Only after several minutes she she finally allow a smile to dance upon her lips.
“Ah, so you are responsive,” the Matron said. Katerina looked on mutely. At first, the rubbing had been an annoyance. She hated that this private part of her body was displayed so. But slowly and steadily, the gentle rubbing had opened a door in Katerina’s body. That part of her body, previously only used for pissing, had blossomed warmly. After a while, the warmth had spread into an indefinable pleasure. Once that pleasure struck, she felt a peculiar wetness spreading from her organ.
Only once, in the deep of night, she had woken from a dream, her body blazing hot and her organ had pulsed with a tremendous want. But fear had stopped her there, even though she somehow knew that pushing her finger down over the short, downy hairs protecting her organ would relieve that pressure. That had not occurred again, until now. But unlike the time she woke from the dream, this time the pleasure was being attended to, and it was heightening in a way that made Katerina gasp.
“There we go,” the Matron nodded with approval. “Getting closer, huntress?”
Katerina felt a warmth spread from between her legs over her entire body. She curled her toes from the pressure, the way that this fat woman’s hands now slid easily over slickened flesh. She felt her nipples grow taut and hard, and could not control her breathing well. It was coming fast, but shallow, and then a new sensation built within her. It was massive, whatever it was, and she was careening towards it...closer...closer.
“And...we stop.” The Matron withdrew her hand, and observed.
“Noo!!” Katerina moaned, and since her hips were unfettered, she lunged them forward, trying to reclaim that withdrawn touch. She gasped, moaning now, unable to stem the heat in her body. The withdrawal of the hand had stopped that oncoming thing instantly, but did not drop the body’s needs. She whimpered in her manacles.
“And...again,” the Matron said and resumed the palming over her sex. As before, the gentle circular rubbing had the intended effect. Katerina panted heavily now, her head hanging down, her long straight hair hiding her face but not her body’s reaction to the panting. As before, just as the end felt like it was near, the Matron withdrew her hand. This time the protest was a lot louder, and somewhat more desperate.
The Matron chuckled knowingly. Katerina writhed on the cross, now her fingers and feet whipping around, desperate to escape. Slowly, slowly, the burning heat between her legs cooled, and with it came the return of control over her body. She eased her breathing. But then that fat Matron stood in front of her once more. Palm up, as before, the Matron resumed the rubbing. As before, Katerina found herself panting hard, as that unknown force came closer. As before, when the Matron withdrew her hand, she moaned. She could place a name to the thing - it was relief. She knew it was relief. But to get there!
The Matron took her sweet time preparing Katerina. The on-and-off process last deeply into the night. Katerina’s body shone with a light sweat. She had finally given in and begged the Matron to stop the torture, to let her end this process. But the Matron had only smiled softly. “You have strength,” she said quietly. “For your sake, I hope your intelligence matches that strength.”
And with that cryptic message, the Matron left. At some point, Katerina slept.
The next morning, when the Matron reappeared, Katerina asked her to grant her access to the privy. The Matron looked up sourly and replied acidly. “Piss there; someone will be by later to clean it up.”
Katerina glinted angrily. She forced herself to piss, if nothing more than to see the sour expression of the Matron watching. The Matron looked up at, remaining silent otherwise, but allowed one eyebrow to rise archly. She went about her other business.
Katerina cleared and throat. “Food?” she asked hopefully.
The Matron shook her head, and placed one finger over her lips, warning Katerina. Not a minute later, the Queen’s Guard walk in and demanded a report. The Matron spoke quickly, and the Guard passed along a message.
The Guards took Katerina down and forced her back into the shackles, and led her still naked to a table. She had to use her manacled hands to eat, which she did wolfishly. She knew not when her next meal might come, and it seemed wise to eat when offered. She ignored the pointed stares she received from the others, although she was not the only one shackled. She was led away after completing her meal.
The days began to blend together. She would be fed, then bathed, and her hair brushed by other castle denizens. Or slaves, given the heavy metal rings around their necks, the rough clothing that failed to hide the scars of prior punishments. After that, she would be led back to that cross, where the Matron would slowly tease her over the course of several hours, ending only after she begged for release, a release which was never granted.
“The Queen must really want something from you,” the Matron remarked somewhere in the third week of the preparation. Katerina had lost nearly fifteen pounds, which had the effect of making her budding breasts seem all the larger. The ordeal of the daily massage of her organ and the wild denial left her dazed. All she could think about was the taste at the end, where that taste might lead.
One day, it all changed. The Matron’s hand was rougher, her speed greater, and she backed off more quickly. But the month of constant frustrating stimulation left Katerina only in a saw of intense physical need. She could no longer think straight, as her organ itched with a need that went far beyond anything she could have imagined.
That night, rather than simply retire once Katerina’s screams grew loud and insistent, the Matron left and reappeared shortly thereafter. She carried a wisp of clothing upon her arm. “The word has been given,” the Matron said. “Tonight is your night.” The Queen’s Guard appeared and unshackled the heated, frenzied Katerina. “Huntress!” the Matron snapped sharply enough to get Katerina to focus. “Do not fail,” the Matron said, leaning close. “The Queen can be many things to you. But you must not fail her.” The Matron’s cryptic comments made no sense to Katerina, who merely nodded lest she show her confusion.
The bonds were not metal, but a soft silk. Katerina tested them the moment that the Guards were not looking, but the tie was tight. The bonds may have been cloth, but they still held firmly. She allowed herself to be guided through another intricate maze of passages, until they came to an extremely narrow step of steps. The Guard’s leader pushed Katerina in front of her, and hissed her warning. Slowly they ascended the steps, until they reached a door. The Guard reached around Katerina, and knocked three times, and then stepped back quickly.
The door opened, revealing a backlit figure standing there. The figure reached out and grasped Katerina’s shoulders, and pulled her into the room. Katerina looked around. The candlelit room was obviously the Queen’s inner chambers. The Queen herself stood there, as stoic as her first moment in the castle, looking at Katerina in a way that Katerina could only describe as hungry.
“You are the huntress,” the Queen spoke in a soft tone. It was not the acidic, biting tone she had used on that day long ago. “They say you are prepared for me.”
Katerina had no way to reply. “Easy, huntress,” the Queen guessed at Katerina’s intent to bolt. “My guards are outside my door with instructions that if anyone but me open those doors, the person is to be slain at that moment. Worse than that, the King’s guard also patrol this area, and would they find you in my chambers then, well, we’d both taste the bite of steel. So let us come and sit, huntress, for I am most curious about you. Will you sit with your Queen?”
Katerina nodded mutely. The Queen gently took her arm and guided her to the largest, softest, most luxurious bed she had ever seen. The Queen sat on the edge of the bed, and Katerina saw from her vantage point how thin the Queen’s body was. “Tell me, huntress, on the day you were captured, were you hunting for yourself or your family?”
“Both.” Katerina replied curtly but with respect.
“As a courtesan, it is respectful to address as me as “My Lady” or “My Queen.” The Queen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Surely you can provide that respect to me?”
Katerina was careful in her words. “Yes, I can, My Queen.”
“Ah.” The Queen softly applauded her. “You are wise for one so youthful.” The Queen looked away for a moment. “It is also respectful for a subject to kneel at the feet of her Queen,” the Queen replied next.
Although Katerina did not like it, she got off of the bed and knelt, on both knees. The Queen looked down upon her with a gaze that seemed friendly. She spread her legs slightly. “Come forward, huntress,” the Queen spoke, and watched as Katerina inched forward on her knees. The Queen reached out and took Katerina’s head, and pulled the younger woman against her abdomen.
“Lay your head on the Queen for a moment,” the Queen ordered. Katerina felt a vague sense of pleasure as the Queen slowly ran her hands through her hair. “I was informed that upon your capture you indicated that your father raised you. From birth?”
“Yes, my Queen,” Katerina replied.
“So you have never felt the warmth of a mother’s touch, or had the pleasure of a mother gently brushing your hair?”
“No, my Queen, although my father was a very gentle man.”
“For a smith?” the Queen asked, and Katerina jerked in surprise. “We have inquired, my dear,” the Queen explained. “Were it for the best.”
“The best for whom, my Queen?” Katerina asked impudently, unable to quell her tongue.
“Tsk, tsk, child, ‘tis not wise to chastise one’s Queen, even though such rebukes may be rightly earned,” the Queen added to ease the blow. “You have been treated well?”
“I would not say that, no, my Queen,” Katerina replied.
“Are you a sexual creature, huntress?”
“Sexual, Queen?” Katerina stammered.
“Yes, my child, sexual . Do you know how animals procreate? It was said that when you were tested upon first arriving here, that you saw the wooden tool we aimed to use as your test and knew immediately what that tool was to do.”
“Yes, my Queen,” Katerina replied slowly.
“Sexual, then, is the act of pleasure that two individuals obtain when their organs are touched and stroked, and pleased and stimulated. Tell me, has not the past month been an ordeal because you have never been permitted to climax?”
“Climax?” Katerina was surprised enough by the word to forget the honorific.
“Yes, climax,” the Queen chuckled. “Describe for me, as best you can, what it feels like when you are almost there, almost at the moment of the absolute pinnacle of your pleasure, in that moment just before the hand is stolen away.”
“It’s massive, my Queen,” Katerina said. “I cannot describe it better, only that...I know...should it come, that it would be...a...relief,” she stammered.
“That is the climax,” the Queen said. “And though you will not believe me, I have suffered for the past month almost as badly as you.”
“How?” Then, “My Queen?”
The Queen then gently pushed Katerina’s head back from her abdomen, and held the younger woman’s cheeks between her palms. The two women made intense eye contact. “I have denied myself your visit, and each night that I was unable to bring you to me, was a night left sleepless and unfulfilled.”
Katerina blinked. “My Queen?” she asked, lost for any other words.
“I need to have you, huntress,” the Queen said softly. “Part of your sexual training has been to soften your resolve,” she explained. “And perhaps, perhaps, the Matron added a warning?”
“She said I should not fail you,” Katerina whispered.
“Put your hand between my legs, and feel my organ,” the Queen whispered.
Katerina hesitated, but did as she was told. Even as she neared the point between the Queen’s legs, she felt the heat emanating from her organ. She felt the heated petals of flesh give way easily under her fingers, and the searing, slick heat of her juices. Katerina realized that this was what the Matron felt with her hand upon her sex, and like the Matron had done, Katerina began to move her hand against the Queen’s sex in small, tight circles.
“Yeeessss,” the Queen whispered softly. “You feel my heat, my need, my huntress?”
“Yes, my Queen,” Katerina said. She realized that placing her hand on the Queen’s body in such a delicate, private manner had made her own organ nearly explode with need. The month of teasing, of being right on the edge of the precipice, and yet to pull back swiftly each time, had molded her body into a state of readiness.
Katerina wiggled her fingers and found that they easily slipped into the tight tunnel of the Queen’s organ. The muscled walls of the tunnel gripped Katerina’s fingers tightly, and she looked up at the Queen. The Queen’s face was slack, a slight smile on her lips, her nose flaring with each breath, and then Katerina saw the Queen’s breasts swell and the tiny buttons at the tip of each breast stiffen with need.
“Kiss it, huntress,” the Queen whispered. “Bend down and put your lips on me. Let me feel your tongue, my young huntress.”
Katerina did not hesitate. The Queen lifted her gauzy bedchamber clothing to reveal the sparse pale, curly hair and the enticing look of the older woman’s engorged outer lips. Katerina bent, and closed her eyes, her sense of smell allowing her to locate the Queen’s needy organ. When Katerina’s lips applied gently pressure, the Queen hissed so violently that Katerina nearly pulled away. But the Queen had moved her hands, pulling Katerina tightly against her body, and Katerina had little choice but to open her mouth and allow her tongue to work the Queen’s body. The organ responded to her slow tongue movements. The Queen’s ability to speak was lost, as she spluttered and moaned incoherently. Katerina felt the Queen’s hands pull harder against her body, and used that as a spur to lick the Queen’s organ harder and faster.
Then, she found a spot that made the Queen shudder and cry out. It was a sound that Katerina herself had made often down in the preparation room, one of complete lust. The Queen was lost, Katerina realized, lost to her body’s own needs. Dimly, as her tongue flicked lightly over the spot that was driving the Queen to near-madness, she wondered what it might feel like with a tongue on her own organ.
Suddenly, the Queen’s entire body stiffened. Her legs clamped hard, together, trapped Katerina between them, crushing her against the hot, wet flesh. The Queen’s fingers pulled hard on Katerina’s hair, the resulting explosion of pain making Katerina cry out into the Queen’s heated organ. But then, Katerina’s face was hit by a powerful spray of liquid, liquid that blasted out of the Queen’s organ so much that it near-drowned her. The Queen shuddered, spasmed, and then shuddered again, wailing something incoherent, and the roughly shoved Katerina away to roll onto her side on the bed. The Queen continued these convulsions long enough for Katerina to grow instantly worried. Surely the Guards would enter the inner chamber soon, given the type of cries erupting from the Queen’s mouth.
But then, the Queen fell silent and relaxed. “Climb up onto the bed, huntress,” the Queen moaned quietly. Katerina did as she was told, and lay down stiffly next to the Queen, sliding her hands to one side as good as she could. The Queen noticed the uncomfortable position and sat up.
“Your word, huntress, that if I cut these bonds you will not try to escape,” the Queen asked.
“No, my Queen, I will not run,” she said softly.
“Then I will show you the way, my young, lovely, huntress,” the Queen announced. A blade was pulled from under a pillow, and the Queen indicated Katerina should sit up. She did, and the Queen sliced through the bonds efficiently. Freed for the first time in a month, Katerina had to viciously suppress the desire to wrap her fingers around the Queen’s neck and apply pressure.
Instead, she lay back down. The Queen was atop her immediately, kneeling, and her fingers boldly tracing over Katerina’s fleshy chest mounds. “Your nipples are peaked,” the Queen said softly. “This arouses you?”
“Arouse, my Queen?” Katerina asked hesitantly.
“You know not the word?” Katerina shook her head no. “These are breasts, in our language, and these are nipples. A sow in the forest has eight of these teats to suckle her piglets. I’ve fed two babies from my breasts, and the feeling of love a mother has as she looks tenderly down at her babe feeding is without compare. But they are also quite sensitive to the touch, and further arouse you.”
As the Queen spoke, she ran small circles around Katerina’s taut nipples. “Pleasurable, yes?” the Queen asked.
“Yes, my Queen.”
When the Queen took each nipple between her fingers and pinched, Katerina squirmed and moaned in distress. “They are quite sensitive, I see,” the Queen observed. She released the nipples, and traced her fingers slowly between the breasts, and down slowly over Katerina’s soft belly.
The Queen slid down and then wordlessly bent, and placed her mouth over Katerina’s open sex.
The pleasure the Matron had provided had driven Katerina mad, but the intensity of that pleasure paled to what she felt at that moment. The Queen’s tongue felt like it was everywhere at once, invading her, sliding around her organ. The month of being on the edge of desire created a massive backlog of need. Her body reacted purely physically, as Katerina’s hips rose powerfully off of the bed, her fingers grabbing at the luxurious comforters, pulling hard into fists, as the scream of all screams erupted from Katerina’s mouth as the final act of this arousal was finally, mercifully, experienced.
Katerina’s vision swam as her body was rocked by the sensations. She saw stars and knew nothing except pleasure, perfect pleasure, coursing through her and filling every nerve, every fiber of her being. And still, the Queen fed delightfully from Katerina’s young organ, lapping up every drop of the natural fluids the organ produced. Like the Queen had done, suddenly the sensation of the Queen’s tongue on her organ created sensations that were no longer pleasurable, but beyond ticklish. Katerina squirmed wildly, trying to escape.
The Queen permitted it, and then climbed up onto the bed and laid next to the panting, now exhausted Katerina. “That is your climax,” the Queen said. “It’s not every girl in the realm who gets to have her organ tasted by the Queen herself!” the Queen chuckled.
“Th-that... was... a-amazing,” Katerina moaned quietly. “My Queen,” she added after a beat.
“I’ve tasted you; from now on, in my chambers, you may address me using my given name. But only here, as you are never to utter that name outside of this room and outside of my presence. Can you do that for me, Katerina?”
“Yes, My Queen.”
“My name is Patricia. Please, call me that. I get so sick of people saying My Queen all the time, sometimes I want to throw up.”
“Thank you, Patricia,” Katerina said softly, admiring the name a bit.
The two women rested comfortably, nestled next to one another. Katerina had a thought, and it popped out of her mouth before she could think to filter it. “I won’t be staying here with you, will I?”
The Queen laughed gently. “Of course not, huntress. That would be...unseemly. Not to mention we’d both taste the blade.”
“Why, though?”
“My husband, the King, he thinks highly of himself, and his ego certainly could not understand that his wife, the Queen, prefers the touch of a vibrant young woman to his. It would be the end of us both, and it would not be a pleasant death.”
Knowing just a little about men, Patricia’s words rang of the truth. “Then this is your little secret?” Katerina asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes, my child, my secret. Although the Matron, and my guards, all know. Part of the reason you were there so long was to see how silent you could remain. You have passed that test.”
“But I will never roam freely in this castle,” Katerina objected sadly.
“Actually, when I get my fill of you,” the Queen said sadly, somehow her voice reverting back to a more queenly one, “you will be quietly escorted from this place. I sense that I will not be able to keep you around, as I’ve been able to do so with my guard.”
“Why, Patricia?” Katerina asked.
The Queen rolled over. “Never mind why,” she said curtly. “I want you to taste me again. Will you?”
“With pleasure, Patricia.”
Katerina lost track of time that night. The Queen was rocked by many more climaxes, each one coming more quickly than the last, each one with less force. Finally, the Queen was too exhausted to continue. She did put her mouth on Katerina’s organ once more, for a final good-bye. The Queen and Katerina walked on unsteady legs to the secret door and opened it. The guardwoman was standing there. The Queen nodded at her, and Katerina was led back down into the Matron’s chambers.
The Matron, and all four guards, were awake. “So now you know why you were kept for so long,” the Matron said.
“Yes,” Katerina said.
“I will return you to your father,” the lead Guard said, stepping forward. “But we must leave now, before first light.”
“I need clothing.” The Matron swept her hands, and showed Katerina the replacement leathers, and her bow and knife. Swiftly Katerina dressed, and then nodded to the Guard. She followed the Guard out of the castle to a small secret exit under a stone bridge. Two horses were waiting, and they forded the cold, swift-moving stream before riding hard back into the Castle Wood.
They arrived at the village at first light. The Guard removed her helmet. She offered a wan smile to Katerina. “We may call again,” the Guard said. “On your ground, you are allowed to refuse. But for all of our sakes, I do hope that should the Queen require a particular service from you, that you would bend a knee and answer her call?”
“Yes, I would answer her call,” Katerina said quietly.
“Would you answer my call?” the Guard asked next, after another furtive glance around the still-sleeping village.
“Yes,” Katerina whispered softly.
“Then we may be calling upon you sooner than you may expect, huntress.” The Guard put her helmet back upon her head, and then left without another word.
Katerina looked around her village. Explaining this to her father would be well-nigh impossible, but then perhaps he would only be grateful for her return. She steeled herself, pushing her past month back into her memory. But even as she walked to her old home, she paused and turned back, looking into the dim gray early morning light, towards the far-off castle. “I will return, Patricia,” she vowed with a whisper. “I must.”
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